Chapter 28 Lore
TWENTY-EIGHT
Lore
WAR WAS, IN a word, devastating. And, in another word, shirtless. Because of course that was how our introduction would go.
I blamed the id portion of my brain—that primitive, pleasure-seeking heathen had no self-control. My mind was utterly shameless.
And I was staring. Open-mouthed. Possibly with a hint of drool.
Like a true leading lady.
“Leif.” War’s voice rolled through the courtyard like distant thunder. “Why is there a mute mortal in nothing but your tunic?”
Conquest gave a casual shrug, as if the situation was beneath his concern, and I shot him a glare sharp enough to cut any normal person.
It had little effect on the arrogant Fae.
I hadn’t exactly volunteered to be hauled across the island, forced to cross the bridge of doom, only to then be presented here like a prized calf at the village fair.
“She’s joining the hunt,” he said.
“Not by choice.” My gaze shifted back to War, meeting his dark eyes with defiance. “Also, not mute. You just surprised me. Most people wear more clothes in public.”
He arched a brow. “Good thing I’m not most people.”
His fathomless gaze swept over me in a slow, deliberate sweep, like the shadow of a passing cloud. And I felt… nothing.
No spark, no warmth flowing through my veins, no heart-fluttering excitement. I stared at him, wondering what in the realms was wrong with me.
War stood before me, looking just like I’d pictured from the book I’d read—his eyes were pools of midnight, his presence commanding, and an aura of raw energy rippled around him like a living thing I would normally fantasize about taming.
He was tall and forbidding, dark-haired, brooding, obviously, because what sort of antihero would he be otherwise?
Given his half-dressed state and the weapon he held, he’d probably just finished training. My attention fell over him in another critical sweep.
His chest was sculpted, every muscle defined as if chiseled from stone, then inked with intricate tattoos that were both mysterious and enticing.
A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his bronze skin.
In one hand he gripped a rune-covered sword, its blade polished and ready for whatever challenge might come his way during the hunt.
His features were carved with a ruthless sort of beauty, sharp and compelling, almost impossible to look away from.
I waited for a spark to ignite in me.
This was feeding into one of my favorite scenes in romantic fantasy stories—the post-training, first, tension-filled, unexpected meeting.
He was shirtless, sweaty, heavily tattooed.
And, aside from my initial flash of surprise at his state of undress, I had nary a questionable thought.
I probably looked constipated as I concentrated, but I didn’t care.
He was one of my top three fictional crushes.
Surely I could muster up a speeding pulse or small blush.
He arched a brow. “Like what you see?”
A confident gleam entered his eyes as I took him in again.
His posture turned relaxed and self-assured as he grinned at me. Clearly, he was someone who didn’t face rejection often.
Must be nice.
I also noticed that he didn’t look at me with interest at all, but there was a certain smugness in his expression that suggested he just assumed I’d fall all over myself to catch his attention.
Nope, not doing it for me at all.
Arrogance notwithstanding, I was as unmoved as a statue.
“Unsurprisingly, no. Main love interest looks aside, your personality doesn’t do you any favors. In real life, you need more than a pretty face and cocky attitude; otherwise you’re just rude and boring.”
Conquest choked back laughter, his shoulders shaking with silent amusement. But for a few seconds, War’s expression was a portrait of shock.
His eyes widened and his jaw dropped, betraying his disbelief.
To be fair, I couldn’t blame him for his reaction; even I was taken aback by my words. But I meant them.
With his classic features and striking appearance, he undeniably turned heads wherever he went. But he did nothing for me.
I craved a mental connection. Someone I could talk to for hours and never get bored with or run out of things to say. Someone who adored me for myself, just as I adored him for who he was at his core.
An image of frosty blue eyes and hair as pale as moonlight danced through my thoughts. The prince was in a league of his own.
He’d had a food fight with me on a pirate ship, read everything he could get his hands on, made his entire home a library, danced like a prince, kissed like a sinner, fought sea monsters and giant spiders, yet he could just as easily nurse me back to health as effectively as he killed. He was ruthless and gentle.
Cold and analytical yet sometimes passionately hot.
He also held a world of secrets in his gaze that I’d give anything to unravel.
Too bad he’d already let me know in no uncertain terms that we had no romantic future. Even surrounded by leading love interests, none of them came close to making me burn like the prince did.
And now, faced with the horseman of war, I couldn’t manifest one iota of attraction.
A mask of indifference slipped onto War’s face.
But even as he feigned a lazy disinterest, the set of his jaw and the dark glint in his gaze gave away the truth he was attempting to hide.
That look was one of calculation and intent.
War thrived on the friction of conflict and drew energy from the very prospect of a no, leaning into a challenge the way a gambler leaned into the risk of reward by playing one more hand.
He hadn’t been interested in me in the slightest, until I stoked whatever it was that made him crave battle.
He still didn’t like me. Nor was this about romance or seduction for him.
This was about winning a skirmish simply to prove he could.
I really needed to get a new hobby; alpha Fae were growing tedious.
Silence continued to spread between us, the air charged and tense.
He was quietly shifting tactics, searching for the angle to press that would change my mind. The true hunt might begin at midnight, but I had a feeling a different one had just begun.
“Well, then. It was a pleasure to meet you.” He gave me a slow, wicked smile. “Until next time, prey.”
I met his midnight gaze, determined not to flinch, but the intensity there made me want to look away. Or kick him.
Thankfully he broke our stare off before I got myself into more trouble by employing one of the pirates’ favorite tactics.
He clapped Conquest on the shoulder, then strode confidently out of the courtyard, his footsteps echoing against the cobblestones.
Honestly, I’d barely registered our surroundings until War left.
He didn’t spare me a backward glance, but I somehow knew his attention still lingered on me. It felt like a subtle tug at the edges of my awareness, alerting me to the danger he still posed.
My subconscious deserved a cookie for flagging the fact that the horseman of war posed a threat.
I inwardly sighed. A lifetime of never attracting the attention of any suitors and now I inadvertently drew all the wrong kinds.
My dream magic needed to take it down several notches.
Or maybe this was just the dream magic from Somnia.
Sloth had mentioned the goddess used to rule over dreams before she went completely dark and was stripped of her powers and bound to this realm.
I paused at that… Had he told me that? I suddenly couldn’t remember, but I was certain it was true.
Conquest leaned against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips as he surveyed the courtyard, which was slowly filling with vendors for tonight’s festival.
“Things will be extra interesting later,” he said.
I crossed my arms over my chest, my gaze narrowed on the Fae as frustration and prickling unease warred inside me.
“I hate you.”
Conquest’s grin widened, his teeth flashing in the evening light.
“Just wait until after the hunt.” His voice dropped lower. “You’ll positively despise me then.”
He straightened and jerked his chin toward the castle proper.
“Time to meet the other prey, little rabbit. Better hope you make some friends or tonight won’t be much fun for you at all.”
I’d expected to be escorted to a room in the enchanted Faerie castle where I could plot and plan, and that was my first mistake: having any sort of expectations this far into the Trials with the dark book.
In the original story, the main character was brought to the most beautiful guest-room suite and given food and clothing and a piping-hot bath.
Instead of bringing me in through the magical doors made from flowering woven vines, Conquest led me down a narrow alley that stood in the shadow of the giant castle.
I glanced at the backs of the buildings we passed.
Some doors were thrown open to let out the heat from what I assumed were small eateries. The scents of savory meats and fried potatoes mixed with confectionaries and soon my stomach was grumbling.
Conquest shot me an irritated look, as if I had control over being hungry.
I considered calling my shadow pet to wreak havoc on the Fae but didn’t want to put little Teddy in harm’s way.
Inside the giant tree structure, I was surprised that it looked like any other small fortified village.
Cobblestone streets, tons of buildings crammed together made from pale stone with thatched roofs. Some were two stories high, others three, but none were as towering as the castle that loomed above it all.
As the bustling establishments thinned out, the delicious scent of food was replaced by a pungent odor of manure.
I crinkled my nose. The scent of hot, steaming crap really killed an appetite.
We continued down the narrow alley, and the vibrant chatter and clatter of the nearby streets faded, replaced by the sounds of our footsteps on the cobblestones.
Any lingering noise stopped completely when the alley ended, revealing stables at the far end of a flat expanse where no other buildings were located.